Reach Out

I gave myself the challenge to write something based on or inspired by music. The following piece is a short story inspired by this song:

(Click Here if you can't see the embedded video)

The Afterlife, where souls are free from their earthbound bodies and prepare for the next stage of existence. A dimension that reaches to infinity, welcoming all through it's doors. A stepping stone into the next life, most will spend only a few centuries before moving on. Only those truly wicked and wretched will remain, stuck forever in the in-between to do the Devil's bidding. That is, unless you've made the unfortunate mistake of selling your soul like I did. Then, no matter how much of saintly life you’ve led, you will be forced to to spend eternity under his command… at least during business hours.

Those of us who aren't murderers or war criminals are treated with at least a semblance of civility. Breaks, lunches, off-time and vacation days, it's not quite the vision of hell that I had imagined. The few of us who attempted to lead good lives are given desk jobs, but most are sent out into the field to haunt, terrify, and generally pester the living. Most will go unnoticed, but the truly evil are always able to make their mark. They terrorize with glee, taking pleasure in haunting the living, but it's the troubled souls that are truly disturbing. The oohs and ahhs you would associate with ghosts are merely echoes from the demented souls struggling beneath the Devil's thumb. They cry out, wailing from the pain of being pushed out of the driver’s seat. Unfortunately, I was given the position of Job Placement Specialist for these disturbed souls.



"Next!"

Morton Melino's desk was covered with stacks of files. Keeping track of the dead certainly took up it’s share of paper, and it was no surprise that the Devil never bothered to upgrade to a more efficient electronic filing system. "It could be worse," he thought to himself, "I could be on the other side of this desk." He looked at the nameplate on the door: M. MELINO - JOB PLACEMENT SPECIALIST. Morton sighed. "At least I have an office, it's a step up from my old job...back when I was alive." Pressing the intercom button, he repeated himself once again, "Next!" Morton's department specialized in dealing with troubled souls, where things move at a much slower pace. When souls refuse to accept their fate, they tend to drag their feet. Plus, it's hard to hear the loudspeaker over all the wailing.

"Oh goddamnit, it's a miracle anything gets done arou..." "Mort! How wonderful to see you again." A man in a crisp, tailored suit stepped through the door. It was Peter. Peter wasn't like the others. He was lumped in with the disturbed souls because he was too much for the Overseers to handle. A special case. It wasn't that he was a troubled soul, it's more like he was just trouble. "Good to see you again Peter. You always keep things interesting." Flattery was always best in these sorts of situations. Be friendly. That way, they're less likely to flip out or cause a scene. Getting security to report to the lower floors was a nightmare. "So what happened this time? Assault a fellow ghoul? Were you stealing again?"

"Maybe I just missed you. Maybe I came to pay my best pal Mort a visit. Is that out of the realm of possibilities?” A salesman back when he was living, Peter was somehow able to carry his silver tongue over with him to the other side. “I’m not here to bring you any sort of trouble today, I swear to…” His eyes looked upwards, then he threw his head back and laughed heartily. “Anywho... No, I’m not here for another job, if that’s what you were asking. I’ve been minding my manners like a good boy. Cross my heart and hope to… Oh, look, I’ve done it again!” Peter laughed even harder this time, slapping his knee to make sure his enjoyment came across.

“So what are you here for? It’s not that I’m not pleased to see you, it’s just,” Morton motioned toward the large stacks of files that took up most of his desk, “as you can see, I’m really very busy.”

“You need to relax! It’s not like any of us are going anywhere. What’s your rush? You’re no different from anyone else. We’re all stuck here. Only difference is, you sit behind that desk and send the rest of us out there to do the big guy’s bidding. Seems to me like you’re the one who’s worse off. At least when I’m out on the job, I get to travel.” That hit a nerve with Morton. He had been increasingly restless after spending day in and day out working with crazies and filing paperwork. He even found himself reminiscing about the days he spent flipping burgers at the local fast food joint back when he was alive. A salesman until the end, and even after that, Peter could see that he had gotten under Morton’s skin. “You know what Mort? Here, take my card. Call me when you feel like having some fun outside this little office of yours.” He slid a business card across the desk, stood up and headed for the door. Before he left, Peter stopped and looked around the room. “You might want to open a window or something. It’s really very hot down here!” He grabbed his sides with laughter as he walked out the door.

Picking up the card, Morton tossed it into one of his desk drawers. Before slamming it shut, he noticed that Peter had written something on the backside. Picking it back up, Morton’s eyes widened as he read: I figured a way out. A way to cross over.